


The Shattered Circle

by FeatherWriter



Series: Stormlight Age [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins, Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Abominations, Blood Magic, Captivity, Circle of Magi, Crossover, Dragon Age Setting, Hallucinations, M/M, Mage Renarin, Mage Tien, Mages and Templars, Possession, Psychological Torture, Stormlight Archive Characters, Templar Kaladin, The Broken Circle, Thedas, Torture, Warden Tien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 01:47:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4460609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeatherWriter/pseuds/FeatherWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to A Sword to Pierce the Sun, taking place during the DAO quest “The Broken Circle.” Two years after the end of the last story, blood magic and abominations have taken control of Ferelden’s Circle of Magic, capturing templars and mages alike. Betrayed by his superior officers and trapped by magic, Kaladin, now a Knight-Captain, attempts to survive the nightmare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Towers Forever Stain’d

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kogiopsis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kogiopsis/gifts), [BeneathSilverStars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeneathSilverStars/gifts).



Kaladin could no longer guess how long his life had been screams, death, and nightmares made real. His prison was deep within the Circle, far from any doors or windows that might have shown that time still passed outside. Maybe it had only been a few days. Maybe it had been weeks. He wasn’t certain which possibility was more horrifying.

His father’s calm, quiet voice whispered that he could make a guess based on the effects of his extended dehydration. His mouth felt cracked and dry, his body feverish, and his skin shriveled. Considering how he felt, it had probably been well over a week since they’d taken him, and the meager amounts of food and water were not enough to stave off this debilitating weakness. The surgeon’s son in him knew how dangerous that weakness truly was now. Of all the things in this Circle that might kill him, it could be something as simple as lack of water that finally did him in. He couldn’t help but think he might prefer that.

At least if he died of thirst, he would die as himself.

Originally, he’d tried to keep track of the days by his sleep cycle, but it was impossible to actually rest in here. The warded circle that was his prison was barely large enough to lay down in with his legs curled to his chest; any semblance of comfort was out of the question. The screams echoing in the halls woke him every time he managed to drift off anyway. After a while, he realized he’d started to pass out periodically. Though medically, he couldn’t help but be concerned about that, a part of him was grateful that his brief snatches of rest weren’t really sleep. The lyrium withdrawal’s nightmares were nearly as unbearable as being awake.

Oh, lyrium. Kaladin had only been a templar for a few years, and he had thought that it would be years before he felt the negative effects of lyrium addiction, but that had been before his blood mage captors had cut him off entirely and without warning. That gnawing need seemed to be eating at him from the inside, the crooning song inescapable as it clawed at his psyche. He vowed, if he made it out of this alive, he’d never again look down on the templars who’d started to be addled by the lyrium’s influence. He now knew how deep and powerful its hold could be, and he suffered through every second of it.

There was only one thing for which Kaladin could thank the Maker: Tien wasn’t here anymore. He’d hated Knight-Commander Amaram for giving his brother to the Grey Wardens – and Andraste knew he had more than enough reason to despise Amaram after what had just happened – but he was glad Tien was away from all of this. Maker send that the rest of Ferelden wasn’t just as bad as here, though. There’d been rumors of Voidbringer darkspawn rising up in what might be a Blighted Desolation. Of all the times for the Circle to shatter, this was one of the worst. Still, his only concern on the outside was Tien, or very seldom, a stray thought for his parents. With what he was enduring here, he didn’t have the strength to worry about much beyond the Circle.

Maker knew, he could barely think beyond the confines of his own glowing cell and the desperate sense of self-preservation that his torture had evoked. He tried not to look outside, beyond the confines of his ring, but it was impossible to forget the horrors of the scene around him. Even with his eyes closed, the cloying scents of blood, death, and decay clung to his every breath. Even in the rare moments of silence, the screams of his squad’s deaths still rang in his ears.

Amaram had said Kaladin had had real potential. The youngest templar to be promoted to Knight-Captain in recent history, and his squad was one of the most disciplined and well-organized. But what had their success won them? They’d stayed controlled and committed when everything had started to fall apart, worked together to protect the Knight-Commander and get their group to a rendezvous to reassemble. And when they’d finally reached the ground floor, rather than regrouping and mounting an assault as had been the original plan, Knight-Commander Amaram had chosen to take his chance at safety and seal the rest of the tower off completely.

Leaving Kaladin and his squad trapped on the other side, outnumbered by a horde of abominations, shades, and blood mages.

After that, Kaladin was proud of how well his squad defended themselves, but they were exhausted and outnumbered. Enchanter Taravangian and his fellow traitors had overwhelmed the small group of templars and taken them prisoner, holding each of them in their own enchanted ring, each barrier an impenetrable wall of light.

What remained of his squad was now strewn about this section of the hall. Only one was still alive, besides himself. Knight-Lieutenant Dallet, his second-in-command. Originally, when they’d all awoken, Kaladin had thought the mages meant them to be hostages, used for negotiation if the outside forces broke in.

Then the torture began, and he realized the truth instead. They were _playthings._ Toys to be broken by mages seeking any kind of petty or insidious revenge. These mages didn’t wish to punish specific templars for abuses or cruelty, either. Kaladin had realized that when they’d started with Cenn. The boy was barely more than a recruit, but that didn’t matter. These captive templars weren’t being attacked for anything they personally had done, they were being tortured simply for what they were.

Kaladin sat, knees bent before him, leaning back against the boundary, and hated that he could _almost_ understand his captors’ twisted logic. He grew up in an apostate family, hearing his father say similar things about the templars, that they hunted mages down for no crime other than existing. That they’d lock anyone with magic away and punish them simply for what they were. With Taravangian’s takeover, the power roles had flipped. The mages chose whoever they wished and tortured them, often to death. Of course, those who died were the lucky ones. The templars who didn’t die? They were turned into monsters.

“Kaladin,” a voice rasped beside him.

He opened his eyes, slowly focusing on Dallet in the gloom. “Yeah?”

“She’s coming back for me.” Dallet looked down the corridor, but Kaladin couldn’t see or hear anything. “I think she’s going to finish me off this time, sir.”

Kaladin managed to sit up, the words mustering what little protective instinct he had left. “Don’t talk like that. We’ve survived this long.”

Dallet found a small smile, but Kaladin could see his words hadn’t meant anything. “It’s been an honor serving with you, sir. I only wish I weren’t leaving you alone.”

Now Kaladin could hear the steps. Figures began to coalesce from the darkness, and selfishly, Kaladin’s first burst of panic was for himself alone, despite what Dallet had just said. Kaladin’s Knight-Lieutenant bowed his head, lips moving as he breathed one last prayer to the Maker or perhaps spoke a passage from the Chant of Radiance.

Taravangian himself wasn’t present with the approaching group – he tended to spend his time with the captured _mages_ rather than the templars. In his stead, Enchanter Adrotagia led a party of four. As they drew near to Dallet’s ring, Kaladin found his voice and his courage again.

“Stop! Leave him alone. Take me instead.”

Adrotagia locked eyes with him and he forced himself not to look away. She was a poised woman who had always carried a great sense of control, wearing mage’s robes as if she belonged in them. She had always looked upon others as though they were inferior without magic, and now, standing over captives, the effect was even more pronounced. As Kaladin held her gaze, he could see there was something inhuman behind her eyes now.

“That one,” she said, pointing to Dallet without breaking eye contact with Kaladin. She flicked her staff to the side and as the boundary went down, Dallet jerked as lightning arced across his body. Templars were normally resistant to magic, but that came from lyrium. Without it, they were as weak as everyone else. Starved as they were now, they were probably weaker to magic than the average person would be. Dallet didn’t stand a chance of resisting.

In a moment, it was over, and Dallet’s unconscious form slumped in a heap. Kaladin yelled, pounding against the conjured wall powerlessly. The magic made a deep hollow sound as he hit it, vibrating beneath his hands like the skin of a drum. It was strangely smooth, but not flat, like a pane of glass warped from melting. The surface shifted subtly back and forth in a calm, even pattern, as if defiantly serene in contrast to his horror. After ensuring that Dallet was knocked out, one of the blood mages walked over and picked him up.

Assured that her companions had the situation in hand, Adrotagia walked over to Kaladin, knelt down to his level and cocked her head. “And then there was one.”

Kaladin forced himself not to look away. “Let him go. _Please._ I’m the Knight-Captain. Take me instead.” He’d learned quickly in his time like this that he wasn’t too proud to beg. Not if it might save someone’s life.

Her mouth quirked slightly. “Very noble, Knight-Captain. Alas, you are off-limits for now. Spoken for.”

He couldn’t help but feel a chill at the sinister tone. “Spoken for,” he repeated. It wasn’t quite a question.

“The last group of captured mages are now being taken to the Harrowing chamber. Enchanter Kholin will be among them.”

Kaladin surged with a powerfully ambivalent response. Renarin was still alive? But if Adrotagia spoke the truth, he was as much a prisoner as Kaladin himself was. He’d hoped that Renarin had been able to escape to safety on the other side of the seal before it closed, but he’d also feared that Renarin might have been killed in the chaos of the aftermath. At least now he knew, he told himself. At least he knew.

“In a way, we have you to thank for that, don't we?" Adrotagia continued. "He was scheduled to be made Tranquil and you pushed for him to be tested."

"He passed," Kaladin growled.

She chuckled, and there was something multifold in the sound. "Yes, and a fortunate thing, too. He'd be useless to us Tranquil. Powerful, but unstable. Perfect for what Enchanter Taravangian has planned. Your fellow templars would have made him a soulless husk. We will make him our crowning achievement. Though I fear you may come to regret saving him, Knight-Captain."

Kaladin was afraid to ask, but he forced himself to, for Renarin’s sake. “What are you going to do?”

“The same we are doing to all the mages who refuse to join us willingly. He will be possessed.”

Kaladin set his teeth. Renarin was a Dreamer, though that fact was not widely known in the Circle. While other mages might see that he was more sensitive to the Fade, they didn’t realize he also had more extensive experience in resisting possession than almost anyone else. If anyone could survive this, Kaladin knew it was him.

“Why tell me this?” Kaladin asked carefully. Surely she didn’t just come to gloat.

“Ah, child. It’s no secret that the two of you were close. You deserved to know. The king’s own cousin falling to possession and becoming an abomination amidst blood mages? It will be the blow that finally shatters the already fracturing Kholin rule. Elhokar is not his father and the Blackthorn is past his prime. People whisper that the revelation of young Renarin as a mage shows that the bloodline is tainted with magic, and they are unfit. This will break everything wide open. As the royal family’s hold on this nation is destroyed, we will build a new order in the chaos, powerful enough to force back this Blighted Desolation. Sometimes you must tear down a structure to build a new one with stronger foundations. And we will be strong for what’s to come.”

“You’re a monster.”

She gave a small shrug. “Some might call me that, for what I’ve chosen to become. It is no matter. Your… _friend_ will soon be the same as me, though. His turning will simply require a more _delicate_ touch than the others if the proper possession is to be achieved.”

At the end of the hall, the mages carrying Dallet paused and looked back, checking to see if Adrotagia was going to follow. She gave a small wave of dismissal, indicating that they should go on without her. Kaladin wasn’t sure how to feel about the fact that it was now just the two of them in the bloodstained hall. This woman had tortured him countless times over the course of his captivity. She was a merciless creature, but at the moment she seemed… almost casual. Relaxed, even. It was less threatening than usual, even if she was not actually less dangerous. Still, she’d also mentioned he was “spoken for.” Perhaps that meant she wasn’t going to do anything to him right now. Or perhaps it was a trick.”

“Somehow,” Kaladin said, “I doubt ‘delicate’ is the word I would use for whatever twisted thing you have planned.”

“No,” she said, “you probably wouldn’t. The fact of the matter is, Enchanter Kholin’s usefulness is derived from his ability to be recognized. How could one tell one twisted monster from another, and how can we show that a Kholin has been corrupted if no one can see who he is? Turning a mage against his will, is a simple enough task, given adequate resources and knowledge. But forcing the possession disfigures the subject. A different approach is needed.”

She paused, as though waiting for him to ask her what she meant. Though he felt a protective anger starting to boil up, he held his tongue, if only because she seemed to want him to speak. He had a feeling she was going to tell anyway. When it became clear he wasn’t going to play into her self-imposed script, she made a small “tsk” and continued.

“If forcing a spirit on him unwillingly would cause a transformation, he must instead be convinced to accept without resisting. The mages we’ve turned up to this point have been practice. Now we move on to our most important conversion. We have time, experience, and no shortage of healing magic, so there is no chance that he might be lost if our efforts go too far. Taravangian has already drawn the Greater Terror here in the Fade and the spirit is compliant. It has agreed to be patient while we prepare its host.”

Kaladin felt sick, though he tried not to show it. He’d keep a strong front before this woman, no matter how horrifying the plans she spoke of were. “You’re going to… torture him until he agrees to be possessed? It will never work.”

Adrotagia raised an eyebrow. “Commendable loyalty, but I don’t believe Kholin will be too difficult to persuade. You, young templar, might have a defiant will that could withstand our efforts for a time, but I do not believe Renarin can say the same. This will be over quickly, and then after we have turned him, his first task as ours will be to turn _you._ ”

Her words sparked a true terror within him. The image of a Renarin whose eyes were not his own, standing over Kaladin’s cell, intent on using magic to force Kaladin to become one of those monsters. Yes, he could speak defiance at Adrotagia now, but he knew without lyrium he had no defenses. If Renarin were to become possessed, a powerful demon could subsume Kaladin’s will entirely.

All Kaladin had to hold on to was hope that Renarin could hold out. If these mages had decided that turning him was to be Renarin’s responsibility, in some kind of sick revenge, then so long as Renarin resisted, Kaladin might be safe. “You won’t turn him, _maleficar._ He won’t break.”

The blood mage rocked back on her heels, pulling herself up to stand with the support of her staff. “You still don’t understand just how powerful we are, templar. Do you know how much stronger magic powered by the Fade is when a living being of that realm lives within a mage? How much more we are capable of when we stop letting your Chantry rules hold us back?”

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as cracks of cold blue light shattered across her face. When she opened her eyes again, they too had been overtaken by the same light. In a smooth motion, she flipped her staff and laid the sharpened staff-blade against her hand, then pulled it across. The sharpened metal crystalized with frost as it drew blood into the air between the wound and staff. A few drops fell free, and shattered against the ground, frozen solid. The webs of light on her skin illuminated the suspended liquid in a strange contrast of blue on red.

Kaladin’s back hit the far side of his barrier as he tried to push himself away from her and her spell. It was no use – he was trapped – but he knew what was coming next. He knew exactly what he planned to use that blood for, and he couldn’t help trying to get away.

“We are now everything your Order feared, templar, and more.” Her voice now sounded like many, layered atop one another. “You cannot begin to comprehend the power we wield. Know the fate of your dear mage. Know what his fate means for yours. Look upon your future, and _despair._ ”

Her staff yanked to the side as she finished casting and the thrall hit him like a battering ram. Her magic set his blood on fire, worming its way through his veins and taking control. He couldn’t even scream as the spell held him like this. He was consumed, burning as the spell began to tear at his mind. He tried to shove it back, keep it out of his thoughts, but the pain was too intense, too distracting. In moments, the thrall took him completely and his vision went dark. The last thing he was truly aware of before succumbing was the voice of Adrotagia’s demon in his mind:

_“You are not mine to claim, so instead, enjoy your taste of what is to come.”_


	2. Through The Blackest Nights

Nightmares come to life. It was the only way to describe it.

In the painful haze of Adrotagia’s thrall, apparitions came to him, born of memories and fears. Some, he thought were no more than hallucinations, conjured from his delirium. Others he knew to be true monsters, those shades and demons set loose through the halls, drawn to his suffering and wishing to make something of it. Other demons waited for him in the Fade on the rare moments he was unconscious, continuing to torment him through his dreams.

He always recognized them, no matter what form they came in. These demons took the faces of the people he knew, and used that familiarity to break him down in the cruelest ways possible. Memories, fears, and regrets personified and inescapable.

He saw Roshone, the old city lord outlined in a haze of red flames, gloating and laughing at how complete his vengeance had become. He’d sought to tear one son from the town’s surgeon, and had gotten both thanks to Kaladin’s choice.

He saw his childhood friend Laral, spitting on him and calling him disgusting. His father and brother were apostates and he hadn’t told anyone? He’d put her town in danger. He’d put _her_ in danger every time she was around them. She accused him of selfish secrets and she hated him for it.

Between these hauntings, a sound pierced through, coming from the Harrowing chamber. Screaming. Renarin’s screams. Kaladin had never heard the sound before this, but he knew exactly who it was. In the beginning, he selfishly clung to those cries. They were one thing, shockingly real, in the midst of lies and illusions.

Later, he began to reassure himself with them, because if Renarin was still screaming, they hadn’t broken him yet.

A pride demon came to him, wearing Knight-Commander Amaram’s face. “Sacrificing you and your men was necessary,” this one said. “I am needed to protect the Circle, but you are expendable. It is an unfortunate fact of command, but it is my responsibility to make these difficult decisions on behalf of us all. I thank you for saving me, and now, I thank you for your deaths.”

He saw his parents, staring at him silently in disappointment and disapproval. "My son," Lirin said quietly, "a templar? After all they've done to this family? To me? You willingly join the Order that oppresses us, the Chantry that would lock us away for what we are! You are no longer my son. You are the enemy."

Kaladin knew the demon's images weren't real, but he couldn't help it. "It was for Tien, Father! I was trying to protect Tien! You have to understand!"

"And where is Tien now?" His mother's eyes were on the verge of tears as she spoke. "He's your little brother and you just let them take him away! You were supposed to protect him! How could you let this happen? You've failed him!"

“I tried!” Kaladin pleaded. “Amaram took him right after his Harrowing! There was nothing I could do!”

“You failed,” Hesina said. “My little boy is all alone out there now. He could be dead and you couldn’t even know it!”

“No!” Kaladin yelled, pressing his hands to his ears and squeezing his eyes closed. “He’s not dead. You’re not real. Leave me be!”

Silence. He stilled, afraid to open his eyes for fear that they were simply waiting for him to look up again. In the Harrowing room, Renarin’s screams cut off suddenly, and Kaladin didn’t want to think about what that might mean. The resulting quiet was decidedly eerie.

The voice that broke it was the last one he wanted to hear.

“Kal?”

He looked up immediately and wished he hadn’t. The image of his little brother standing before him in that grisly scene was too much. Blue and silver light-armor with a griffon motif cut a decidedly different figure than the Circle robes Kaladin had last seen Tien in. His face was the same, eyes that always seemed open too wide, and Tien’s mouth, so often smiling, was now turned down in a concerned frown.

After everything else he’d endured, this was the one thing he couldn’t take. “How _dare_ you, you sick monster,” he spat. “Show me _anything_ else, but leave my brother out of this!” The words were a shout of rage.

Other figures stepped up behind Tien, and as they drew near, the light of Kaladin’s cell illuminated them. Someone vaguely familiar in silvery blue armor carried a greatsword at the ready. His armor was intricately designed, a masterwork. On the other side, a girl with red hair pulled back in a braid was cleaning a pair of daggers before she sheathed them on her back. Her leather armor was splattered with blood, Kaladin noticed as she approached.

“Oh, the poor boy isn’t in his right mind," she said. "I can only imagine the things they’ve done to him. He doesn’t know what he’s saying, Ti.”

Tien was undeterred. “It’s okay, Kal. I’m not a demon! It’s really me this time. We’re here to rescue you!”

The armored warrior stepped closer, trying to get a good look at Kaladin. “Wait, I know this templar. You were the one who was rude to me when I came to see Renarin!” He glanced at Tien. “This is your brother?”

Kaladin groaned as the recognition clicked into place. “Adolin Kholin.” He shook his head. “No, you aren’t a dream, any of you, are you? How… Why? What are you doing here?”

Tien actually smiled. “Yeah, Kal! It’s really me! And I know you don’t really like nobles, but Adolin and Shallan aren’t too bad, okay? We’re going to get you free. Everything’s going to be alright from now on.”

The girl gave a small laugh. “I’m only a little bit of a noble, Tien. Fereldans don’t tend to care much for lesser Orlesian houses.” Her accent was slight, but noticeably Orlesian, especially around the vowels.

Somehow, Tien _actually_ being here seemed worse than a demon impersonating him. “No, no, _no,_ ” Kaladin said. “You can’t be here, Tien. The… the mages. The Circle. It’s too dangerous!” He looked to Adolin and the girl, Shallan. “Why did you bring him back here? You need to get him to safety. Get out of here! Go! What were you thinking?”

“Boy,” a gruff voice called from behind the group. “What kind of ward do they have around that templar?”

Tien knelt down, inspecting the runes on the floor around Kaladin’s prison, where the light touched the ground. “I think… I think it’s a sustained barrier, Enchanter. Bound, to Kaladin and to the original caster. Do you think we can dispel it?”

Enchanter Zahel stepped up to the rest of the group, scowling. “Not if it’s bound. Only way to get rid of it is if the original caster drops it, or if either of the two people it’s bound to dies.”

“Well,” Shallan said, “if the original caster was one of these blood mages, I doubt they’ll be much inclined to come and dispel it for us. So, let’s aim for the plan that doesn’t involve Tien’s brother dying.”

“Wait,” Kaladin said, trying to make sense of what was going on. “Enchanter Zahel? You were on the other side of the seal when Amaram had it closed. How did you get in here?”

Zahel leaned his staff back against his shoulder, looking like a guard with a spear at rest. “Told that over-polished Knight-Commander of yours that I’d spent too long training these mages to just throw them away. When the Warden showed up with a Kholin in tow and said he needed to get in, Amaram couldn’t refuse.”

“The Warden. Tien?”

Tien nodded enthusiastically, standing just a bit straighter in his blue uniform. He opened his mouth to say something, but a sudden peal of screams tore through the air and cut him off before he could begin. There were multiple voices this time, but Kaladin heard Renarin’s among them.

Tien’s group was on alert immediately, each reaching for weapons. Shallan looked to Kaladin for answers as soon as she was certain the source of screams wasn’t coming for them. “What is that? What are they doing in there?”

“It’s the other mages,” Kaladin said hollowly. Unlike the o with these sounds by now. “They take them into the Harrowing chamber and then use blood magic to turn them into abominations.”

Shallan swore softly. “Maker. That’s _horrible._ ”

Tien’s eyes were wide, but he set his mouth, forcing himself to seem determined. “Well, we just have to rescue them too. That’s what we came here to do!”

Adolin held up a gauntleted hand. “Wait, I know you and Zahel are set on rescuing these other mages, but if they’re being exposed to blood magic, then that changes things.”

Zahel immediately fixed the princeling with a poisonous glare. “Son, you’d better not suggest what I think you’re about to. I didn’t fight my way up here just to slaughter the students I came to save just to put your fear at ease.”

Shallan shook her head. “As difficult as it is to admit, Zahel, I think we need to be realistic about this. I know you and Tien care about the mages in this Circle a great deal, but Adolin’s right. You can’t always tell a possessed mage on sight and with blood magic involved, there’s no telling how they might have been affected.”

Tien tapped his staff against the ground. “No, that’s wrong! We can’t just kill mages when they didn’t do anything. We’d be no better than the blood mages!”

“It’s too big of a risk,” Adolin insisted. “We can’t—”

“Adolin.” Kaladin’s quiet interruption cut him off immediately.

“What?”

Kaladin looked up, meeting his eyes. “They’ve got Renarin in there.”

Adolin blinked in stunned silence, then stepped forward and slammed his head against the barrier. The resulting sound was loud enough to make Kaladin flinch.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Adolin yelled. “Why didn’t you say something before this?”

“You seemed to be too busy convincing everyone here that you needed to kill every mage in there just to be safe,” Kaladin spat back. “But I guess things are different when one of them is a nobleman that you happen to be related to!”

Shallan pulled Adolin back, stepping between him and Kaladin. “Hey, cut it out, both of you. This isn’t helping anything.” She looked at the rest of the group as she continued. “So, we’re going to try to save the mages. I’m assuming Adolin’s changing his vote and that makes me outnumbered. We’ll just have to… hope that none of them are corrupted and move on from there.”

Adolin started to walk away, but she caught his arm, holding him back. “And we’re going to do it _together,_ Adolin. With a _plan_.”

He tried to pull free, but she held him fast. “My brother is _in there,_ Shallan! I can’t wait while they’re torturing him! What would you do if one of your brothers was in there?”

“I would try to remember that rushing in like a headstrong idiot is as likely to get him killed as it will us. We have no idea who’s in there or how many of them there are. If we’re going to have a shot at getting everyone out safe, we need to make sure we’re all together in this.”

Tien nodded again, looking relieved now that they had decided against killing the mages. “Well… Kaladin could probably help with that. Kal, you’ve been in here. Do you know anything about what we might face when we go in there? Or, do you know who cast the ward around you?”

Kaladin shook his head, leaning back again. The small outburst against Adolin, short though it was, left him feeling drained. He hated feeling so weak, but there was nothing he could do. “I was unconscious when they cast it and I woke up in here. I have no idea who it was. As for who’s in there…”

He looked toward the Harrowing chamber. “Taravangian’s the leader. I know he’s possessed, a Pride demon maybe? Adrotagia is the one who’s been overseeing the templar captives. She might be the one who cast the ward out here. She’s bonded with a despair demon, I know. I’ve seen it. She took Dallet, and she had three other mages with her when she came. Taravangian probably has more with him in there too. It’s probably safe to assume that any mage who isn’t captive is possessed by now.”

“Pride demon?” Zahel said. “That’s electricity then, and that despair demon is going to be cold magic. I can handle Primal magic and use fire against Adrotagia, but we really need a spirit mage against that pride demon. Warden, I seem to remember you not being exceptionally skilled in that school, at least when you were here.”

Tien looked sheepish. “Yeah… I’ve always been better at Entropy and Arcane magics. But Renarin’s really good at Spirit magic! If we get him free, he might be able to help us fight.”

“We can’t count on that,” Shallan said, crossing her arms. “If… When we manage to get him free, there’s no telling he’d be in any condition to cast.”

“I agree,” Adolin said. “We can’t expect him to fight after what he’s been through. If there’s some kind of lightning pride demon, we’ll just have to handle it ourselves.”

Zahel spoke up, offering some other kind of tactical advice, and the four party members quickly got caught up in making a plan of attack. Kaladin let the words wash over him without expending the effort to pay attention. He wasn’t going to be able to help with anything, not when they couldn’t dispel his barrier. Even if he were freed, he would be too weak to actually fight, he knew. Extended deprivation and torture had taken its toll, and now he simply just had to sit here and wait.

Sit and let his brother go into that kind of danger. He knew Tien had magic, and even that he knew how to use it. Tien was a full mage, he’d passed his Harrowing and everything, and now as a Warden he probably knew even more about combat and protecting himself and his team. But he was still Kaladin’s little brother. The thought that Tien was _here_ and that he was going to go into that mess made Kaladin feel even more useless than he had before.

He just prayed they’d be able to save Renarin without Tien getting hurt.

Tien’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “Kal? We’re going to head in there now, but we’ll be back really soon, okay? We’ll get your barrier down and then we’ll return and get you to safety.”

Kaladin sat up, leaning forward to press a hand against the barrier. “Tien, I know I can’t convince you not to go in there… but please, be careful. I can’t lose you. Not after everything that’s happened.”

Tien smiled, and his brightness seemed to push back the gloom. He raised his hand to the barrier and matched it to Kaladin’s, mirror images on each side. “Don’t worry, brother. You’ve been protecting me for so long. Now it’s my turn.”

The others started walking towards the grand doors at the end of the hallway, but Shallan paused and looked back. “Warden?”

Tien gave Kaladin one last smile and a nod, then grabbed his staff and ran to catch up to the others. “Coming! Let’s rescue those mages!”

Kaladin watched the party until they turned the corner, blinking back tears as he prayed to the Maker that he hadn’t just seen his brother for the last time.

 

* * *

 

The barrier didn’t fall.

Kaladin waited, listening to the sounds of fighting from the chamber, but his barrier never fell. The noise of spells and explosions echoed deeply out to him, and the clanging of more common weapons rang above it. He told himself any moment, Tien’s group would strike down whichever mage had trapped him in here, and he’d finally be freed.

It never came.

Finally the sounds of fighting began to die down, and Kaladin felt sick at what that might mean. At least one of the blood mages -- _his_ captor blood mage -- had to still be alive. And if the battle was over, what did that mean for his brother and the others? He didn’t expect Taravangian would be one to take prisoners, unless he found some way to turn Zahel and Tien along with his captives.

He heard the door open, though around the corner, he wasn’t able to see it. As footsteps approached he forced himself to stand up, for the first time in days. If they were going to kill him or turn him, finally, he wanted to face his fate standing on his own two feet. After what had just happened, he had very little hope that they were going to go easy on him.

Staff taps against the floor accompanied the footsteps, and Kaladin tensed, waiting for the victor to walk around the corner and claim him as their prize. They were in shadow when they emerged, as the only source of real light was the glow of his cage. They stopped when they saw him, then ran forward.

The light revealing Tien’s face was the most relieving moment of Kaladin’s life. He nearly collapsed at the sight, but managed to keep his feet, leaning heavily against the wall. He praised the Maker, Andraste, whoever was listening for the fact that his brother had survived. He might not know what all had happened, but Tien was alive and that was so much more than he’d expected.

“Kaladin?” Tien tapped against the barrier. “Why didn’t this go down? The spell should have gone away!” He turned and called over his shoulder. “Zahel! The barrier is still up! Did we miss someone?”

“Not in the chamber, we didn’t,” Shallan said, walking up as well. She had a pronounced limp now, favoring her right leg. “That templar said he’d take the rest of the mages out the other way, to make certain there weren’t any other mage captives. Maybe it was one of them?”

Tien shook his head. “They wouldn’t make one of their prisoners cast it! They wouldn’t be able to get him out unless one of theirs controlled it. There must be someone else in the Circle, hiding somewhere!”

“We… _oof_ … fought our way up through the rest of the Circle,” Adolin’s voice called from farther back. He sounded like he was more winded from the fight than the rest, having trouble catching up. “We checked every room. There’s no where else they could be.”

Someone coughed weakly. A cough that Kaladin recognized, just as he’d recognized the screams. “There’s no one else,” a small voice said.

“Renarin?” Kaladin called, almost afraid to believe it.

Adolin and Zahel emerged from the darkness, shuffling as they supported a slender figure between them. Renarin Kholin looked haggard, his robes singed and splattered in blood, but he managed to raise his head. His eyes found Kaladin, and he even managed to smile.

“Renarin!” Kaladin shouted, though it came out as more of a rasp. “You’re alive!”

“I… It looks like it,” he said, words coming somewhat slowly as he tried to catch his breath. “Thanks to these four. Are you hurt?”

“It doesn’t matter, so long as you’re safe. You and Tien came through this alive. Nothing else is important.”

Renarin glanced to the side. “Brother, do you have my staff? I need to do something.”

Adolin handed the weapon to him hesitantly, as though thinking he should object to Renarin trying to cast in his condition. Likely he felt he didn’t know enough about magic to argue the point, however. Zahel, however, was plenty knowledgeable on that subject, and he grabbed Renarin’s arm in a warning motion.

“Son,” Zahel said. “After what you just did in there, you don’t have enough mana to be trying anything. And you certainly aren’t strong enough right now.”

Renarin gave a wan smile, then gripped the staff in both hands. “Thank you, teacher, but I’m not casting. Getting rid of a spell doesn’t cost anything, thankfully.”

Before any of them could ask what he meant, he lifted the staff, then brought it back down to hit the floor. What was normally probably a small gesture seemed to require all of his strength, and the staff flashed once with light. Suddenly, Kaladin found himself falling forward, and Tien let out a small yelp of surprise, barely getting his arms out to catch Kaladin as they both toppled to the ground.

“Ow, Kal,” Tien said, but he was laughing as he did so, “you’re kinda heavy when you’re wearing all that armor! Ren, how’d you do that? Zahel said we wouldn’t be able to dispel it!”

Kaladin managed to roll free of his brother, not wanting to crush the younger mage, then sat up and looked up at Renarin from across the room. “You were the one who cast the barrier?”

Still leaning on his brother and Zahel, Renarin managed to make it across the room. For the last few steps, he broke away from his supporters, using his staff like a cane before he all but crashed into Kaladin. For once, Kaladin didn’t even need to be especially cautious with his armor. He didn’t have the strength to crush Renarin in this state, even if he had been careless. Renarin’s arms wrapped around him just as Kaladin’s did the same, and for a perfect, blessed moment, the two of them simply sat like that, wrapped in each other’s arms. It felt surreal, after all of the horrors that he’d endured, to have something as wonderful as holding Renarin close again.

Renarin shook softly in his arms, and when he spoke, Kaladin realized that he was sobbing. “I’m so sorry, Kaladin. I saw them dragging you and the others in here after you were caught and they hadn’t found me yet. They were trapping you all, but I thought, if I were the one who cast it, maybe they wouldn’t be able to get to you. Maybe you’d be safe from the demons at least. Adrotagia didn’t see who put up your barrier and she was furious, trying to find out who it was. When she found out it was me, after they caught me, she was so angry, I knew I’d done something to upset her plans, at the very least.”

Kaladin gave him a gentle squeeze, trying to be reassuring. Everything he’d thought about the way he’d been trapped suddenly shifted. “You were trying to protect me?”

“Yes, but it was selfish,” Renarin said. “I was afraid… Kaladin, I was afraid I would be too weak to hold out against them. If they… When they started to torture me, I knew if it were just me, I would give in and they would have turned me. But thinking of you kept me strong. I knew that if I let the demon have me, you would be in danger again. I told myself that as long as I was standing between you and them, I could endure anything.”

Kaladin would have thought his body was too weak to produce tears, but hearing this proved him wrong. Renarin was alive, and safe. Renarin had locked him in so that the other mages couldn’t make him possessed. Renarin had held out through torture because he was trying to protect Kaladin.

“Are you injured, Kaladin? I think I coul--”

“Don’t you dare,” Kaladin cut him off. “Don’t even think about trying to heal me. I’ll be fine and after what you’ve just been through, you need rest more than I need healing.

Renarin nodded against his shoulder, and Kaladin wanted to say how holding him again was more healing than any spell could have been.The words wouldn’t come, but an idea came of a way he could express it.

The Circle had fallen, the Chantry had obviously failed here. His superior officer was a self-serving snake and all in all, Kaladin couldn’t think of a single reason why any of the rules the Order had enforced up to this point should have a hold on him. Renarin Kholin was a mage, who, as a templar, Kaladin was supposed to be wary of and watch. He was a nobleman, who as a commoner, Kaladin was meant to hate.

But he didn’t. He would trust Renarin with his life, and, even if he hadn’t known it at the time, technically he just had. But more than that, he loved him. His compassion, his strength. His self-sacrifice and wisdom and kindness.

So, Chantry be damned, Kaladin did what he’d wanted to do for much longer than he cared to admit. He held Renarin close, and kissed him.


End file.
